


Surrender

by jynx



Category: DCU (Comics), Deathstroke the Terminator (Comics), Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Developing Relationship, Dick Grayson is Batman, Getting Back Together, M/M, Post-Battle for the Cowl, Post-Bludhaven, Slade dislikes his feelings, Slade has Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-04
Updated: 2019-09-04
Packaged: 2020-10-06 18:42:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20511692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jynx/pseuds/jynx
Summary: Slade was finishing up a job when his phone rang.





	Surrender

**Author's Note:**

> Soooo..... I was always so salty about Dick's run as Batman not being longer. Because oh damn was he wonderful. And I always wondered if (aside from Alfred) Dick had anyone else to deal with his burden. Anyway! Enjoy Slade butting in and making jokes and having feelings!

Slade was finishing up a job when his phone rang. Not many people called him on this number, not anymore. Rose barely spoke to him, unless the shit had really hit the fan and she needed to bring him in; Adeline wouldn’t call, she wasn’t the type; Wintergreen was dead, like his sons. The only other person who had his number was Grayson, and wasn’t that curious that an ex was calling him after the vicious, no-holds bared fight they’d had? 

“‘lo?” he answered, cautious. If the kid was trying to use the call to get a bead on him he’d know and end it, but he was curious why Grayson would reach out to him at all. 

“Park Row,” Grayson blurted out in a rush. 

Slade stood as he holstered his gun and glanced around. He was safe, for the moment; security systems were disabled and there were enough shadows around that it was unlikely he would be discovered for the length of this call. He took a step back and leaned against the wall, foot up on the plaster as he tried to figure out how to answer. 

What seemed like ages ago now, he and Grayson had actually cared about each other. Things had gone to shit when the Society had dropped Chemo on Bludhaven and, well. Slade understood when Grayson had simply stopped taking his calls. He’d respected that and, aside from keeping a general eye on him through the professional grapevine, had kept his distance. For Grayson to break a two-year silence and use one of their many, at the time playful, codewords? Something had happened. 

“What’s up?” he asked finally. 

Silence, thick and heavy, before Slade heard Grayson draw in a shaky breath. “How fast can you be in Gotham?” he asked. Kid didn’t sound good. Sounded a lot like he was trying not to fall to pieces, and not in the good way. 

Slade let out a huff and tried to think. If he wanted things done right? He shouldn’t be anywhere near Gotham for a month or more. But Grayson had reached out to him and was asking for help. “I’m not in the country right now,” he warned. “A week, maybe a little longer.” He still had two loose ends to tie up but he could abandon stealth and go for the fuck it strategy, charter a private flight, and deal with his clothes and weapons on the flight back to the States. He just had to hope nothing went to hell. 

“A week, okay, uh, okay, I. Yeah,” Grayson said as he breathed out. Was he _crying_? “Call me when you’re here?” 

Slade frowned in suspicion. “Want me to call you when I’m on my way?” 

A pause, hesitation. Since when did Grayson hesitate? “Y-you can text. Texting’s better. I don’t know when, if, I’ll be able to answer when you call.” 

“What am I walking into?” Slade asked. “Is this personal or are you hiring me?” 

Voices, the sound of someone pounding on a door. Grayson swore. “Just, please, Slade, I.” The sound of fabric rustling and shouting--Grayson shouting, angry. Telling someone to give him five damn minutes. What the hell was happening in Gotham? Last Slade had known he was in New York and teaching kids gymnastics. He even had the pictures; Grayson was smiling that small smile of his. “I--Slade, I. _Zitka_, please.” 

The line disconnected and Slade was left feeling confused and unsettled. Just what the fuck was going on? 

= 

It took a week and a half to finish up his job and arrange a private flight to Gotham. Once he had changed into civilian clothes and relaxed into a seat he pulled out his tablet and tried to look for news that would be upsetting enough to bring Grayson back to Gotham. Last he had known Grayson had decided to stay out of Gotham entirely and leave it to the Bat. 

But what did he know, it wasn't like Grayson talked to him about his Daddy issues anymore. 

The codewords bothered him, if he was honest. 

_Park Row_. I need to see you. 

_Zitka_. I need you, to make me feel safe, to be there for me. 

As Slade looked, he started to piece together a picture he wasn't sure he understood fully. Gotham was in chaos; the Bat hadn't been seen in weeks, Arkham had been destroyed and all the inmates were running free, Black Mask looked to be staging a massive coup for control of the city. Slade could check off Grayson, the majority of the Bat clan, and a fair bit of their allies tied up in Gotham--but no Bat. 

That was... interesting. 

He looked in the _Gotham Gazette_’s Society pages, since he knew their identities, but nothing. Bruce Wayne has not been seen. Dick Grayson had last been seen at a charity gala, being charming, but had been shockingly dateless. Timothy Drake was cited at the last Wayne Enterprises press conference, fielding questions and wrangling reporters, but no Bruce Wayne. 

Slade knew what damage control looked like and the Bats were experts at it. 

A message from Luthor flashed across his screen and Slade tapped it. 

A job offer: find out what happened to Batman. 

The payout was surprising, considering it was a simple reconn job, but then Luthor knew Slade and the Bats had history. Luthor had been the only one to express some regret over the situation Bludhaven had put him in with Grayson. It had been unsettling at the time that Luthor, of all people, had known since they had kept it very quiet but appreciated. Slade acknowledged it was also probably a test to see where his loyalties truly laid. Not that Luthor would know what loyalty meant. 

Slade sent his standard contract for reconnaissance and the agreed upon rate. He had a suspicion on what had happened based on Grayson's reaction and the fact he had reached out at all. He sighed and pulled his phone out, shooting off a quick text to let Grayson know he was on his way. He hesitated before sighing and sending his own codeword, Spiral. He was on the clock and the job was related to Grayson's family, non-lethal. 

= 

Slade had landed and been in Gotham for two weeks now and he hadn't heard a thing from Grayson. He'd texted, as requested, and received no response. Maybe he shouldn't have given him a heads up about the job. Too late for second thoughts now. 

He had rented himself a penthouse suite in one of Gotham’s best hotels, using Wintergreen’s name on a whim, and had decided to see this as a vacation until Grayson showed. The news seemed more optimistic now than it had when he'd been in the air, which made sense: Batman had been sighted. 

He fixed himself a drink and picked up the tablet. He had assembled a timeline for Luthor, something to at least show he had produced results for the money he was being paid, and would work on that for the time being. It was something to distract himself with knowing that if Grayson didn't show by the end of the week he was gone. 

To think he'd been worried, or even believed that Grayson needed him. Two years couldn't forgive the annihilation of a city Grayson had declared himself a protector of, and how could it? He wasn't sorry for what happened, it wasn't in his nature to be sorry for his actions; the only thing he was sorry for was that it had hurt the other man and driven him away. Grayson needed a place for himself, away from his heroes and his family, a place where no one demanded anything from him. 

Slade had thought that maybe he could be that for the younger man. They were, maybe not better together, but they were _something_. They had been good. 

Then again, what did he know. 

His phone buzzed once, twice, and went silent before he could answer it. He looked at the missed call--Unknown. Slade frowned but kept the phone within grasping reach as he turned back to his work. 

Batman had reappeared a week and a half ago, without a Robin, and a new suit. Granted, the few pictures Slade had were of poor quality and secondhand. He should have been out with his own camera to verify but he had been waiting for Grayson. His last night here he'd be sure to get the pictures for Luthor but in the meantime he was trying to figure out who was under the cowl. 

No sightings of Robin, so it could possibly be Drake. 

No sightings of Red Hood, which meant that Todd was also a possibility. Unless the Bats had locked him up or put him down, which was unlikely. Grayson, if not Wayne, loved him too much to put him down. 

No sightings of Nightwing, which meant there was a possibility of Grayson being under the cowl as well. Something Slade knew he did not want. He had worked too hard to crawl out from under the Shadow of the Bat to let it eat him now. 

Slade huffed; he'd have to see the new Bat fight before he could call it. All three of the former Robins had distinctive fighting styles and it was easy to tell them apart, usually. The cape was something to take into consideration, though. Drake was the only one who's style currently used a cape and utilized it to the same potential as Wayne had. Todd and Grayson both had styles that would be hampered by a cape. 

His phone buzzed again--Unknown flashed once and went quiet before he could touch it. 

The fuck? 

He unlocked his phone and tapped one of the security apps, running it to check for any crap that might be trying to trace his phone. Telemarketers were getting more aggressive every month and one of these days he was going to go after them simply because they pissed him off. 

The security app came back with no results, just as the phone rang again. 

His hand hovered over it, scowling, as it buzzed twice and went silent. Again, Unknown. 

He was tempted to snap the SIM card to shut the damned thing up, except he had no others on him at this moment and no other way to get in contact with Grayson. 

He sat back in his chair and considered the situation. He had been in Gotham for long enough that if Grayson was going to show up, well, then he would have. He had, in essence, proven that he would drop everything and come when called, like a spaniel. He wasn't sure if he liked the implications there. He let out a slow breath and reached for the hilt of a knife, flicking it open and jabbing at the SIM card slot. 

Fuck it. 

He was done with Gotham, done with Grayson, done with this whole fucked up situation. He popped the tray as the phone began to buzz again, silencing it as he snapped the tiny card in two and tossed it on the desk. He powered the phone off and stood up, sliding the knife back into his pocket. It wouldn't take him long to pack. He'd get out of Gotham, cool off, come back once a Robin showed up to get pictures, and close the contract with Luthor. 

Put the whole mess behind him. 

He went into the bedroom and flicked the lights on and _froze_ at the sight of Batman climbing into his room from the open balcony. He knew that door was closed, he had closed and locked it this morning, but apparently the Bat didn't care. 

“Which one are you?” Slade asked, holding himself at the ready. 

The Batman was silent as he landed on the bedroom floor and drew himself to his feet, cape surrounding him and masking his body type. Clever. 

“Wayne's dead, that's been easy enough to figure out,” Slade said as he leaned against the door jam. “So are you Drake, Todd, or Grayson? My money’s on Drake. Todd and Grayson wouldn't be able to hack it as the Bat.” 

Silence. 

Steady silence and zero movement. 

“Drake or Grayson, then,” Slade said as his lips twitched. “Todd would have exploded by now. Granted, you couldn't ever get Grayson to sit still unless you tied him down, and even then.” 

Silence. 

Either it was Drake, or Grayson had let the cowl twist him. Slade didn't know if he liked that thought and rolled his eyes as he stepped forward. 

“All right, enough of this,” Slade said as he stepped forward, intent on pulling the cowl off his guest, when the bastard ducked under his hand and to the side to resume his impersonation of a statue. There wasn't even a hint of a smile on the other’s face. 

Slade's eyes narrowed and he tried again, only to have the Bat dodge and move a step to the left or the right in the most maddening game of keep away. He didn't right back, didn't budge, just _ducked_. Slade tried again and again, slow or fast, using his enhancements to his advantage or not--the Bat simply wasn't there one moment and then he was one step removed. 

Slade tried not to grin. 

There was only one member of the Bat family with a sense of humor and Slade been looking forward to seeing him. He had to admit, as he shifted his weight on his feet and assessed the situation, this was not the way he had planned on seeing Grayson again. He feigned to the left and rushed forward the moment he saw Grayson begin to move, pinning him to the wall in a burst of speed. 

“Grayson,” he said with a grin. “You never could resist a game.” A leg curled around the back of his as a smile flitted over the Bat’s face. The cowl had to go. “How do I get this thing off?” 

“Figure it out yourself,” Grayson said, his voice low and rough as he continued to let himself be pinned between Slade and the wall. He was probably wrecking his voice each night, trying to imitate the Bat’s growl when a voice modulator would work better. 

“If I let go of your wrists will you stay put?” Slade asked. 

“Maybe,” Grayson purred. “See and find out.” 

Slade snorted and released first one wrist--which stayed exactly where it was--and then the other, as he ran his hands over Grayson's pretty neck. Nightwing’s suit had defenses, he was sure the new Batman suit did as well. He smoothed the pads of his fingers over the fabric lightly until he found it, the tiniest raised bump that Grayson could hit to turn the defenses off, and pressed down on it as Grayson's breath caught. 

“Was that you? The Unknown number?” Slade asked as his thumbs pushed under the edge of the cowl, pushing the material up just the slightest. 

Grayson's smile widened but he kept his silence. Interesting. Slade was curious about this change in the previous chatterbox, and not quite sure he liked it. He inched the cowl up slowly, revealing a nose, cheekbones he was so familiar with, Grayson's wicked blue eyes, three deep puncture wounds around his right eye, and finally he pushed it off to see his ex’s hair stick up in a dozen different crazy directions. Slade ran a hand through Grayson's hair, trying to tame it, as the other leaned into the touch. 

“Hi,” Grayson said quietly. 

“Hi,” Slade said, arching his eyebrow. He flicked the Bat symbol on the middle of Grayson's chest. “I take it this was the reason it took you so long to answer?” 

Grayson looked away, even as he kept his hands against the wall. Slade sighed, about to pull away, when the leg around his tightened and prevented him from moving. The hands came off the wall and suddenly Slade had fingers pulling at his hair and a body curled around his as lips pressed desperate kisses to his face and mouth. 

Something inside Grayson had clearly snapped. 

“Get this off me,” Grayson gasped, his hands framing Slade’s face. There was a little bit of wildness in his eyes and the pressure from the tips of his fingers against Slade’s skin was anything but kind. “Get it off, getitoffgetitoff_getitoff_\--” 

Slade kissed him to silence him, hands going to Grayson's ass as he walked them to the bed and dumped the other on the large monstrosity. He said nothing as he pushed and pulled at Grayson's limbs, looking for the hidden zippers and catches that would strip off matte black kevlar. Gloves, belt, cape and cowl, boots were all discarded without a thought as Slade listened to Grayson's breathing quicken in a way that said panic, not excitement. It was only once the body suit was off that his breathing almost returned to normal. 

“Breathe,” Slade said, resting his hand in the middle of Grayson's chest as the other lay sprawled on his back on the bed. “It's off. _Breathe_.” Grayson did, sucking in a big gasp of air and squeezing his eyes shut. Slade sighed as he watched him breathe, his thumb moving in soothing circles. “Zitka, hunh?” 

“You weren't wrong,” Grayson said after a moment. “Bruce is dead.” 

Slade nodded slowly. He hadn't liked the man, hadn't liked the way he treated those loyal to him. In his most honest moments, he hadn't liked Wayne because of their similarities and the ways in which Wayne was worse than him and yet still had everything. “I'm sorry, Dick,” he said instead. “I know you loved him.” 

“Fuck that and fuck him,” Grayson said in a voice of pure venom. “I don't want to be him but I don't have a choice.” 

“Drake,” Slade said instantly. 

“Thinks Bruce is still alive and has left Gotham.” 

Slade refrained from commenting on that. “Todd.” 

“I love Jason, I do, but he's a mess right now. He'd make a great Batman, he would, but he's…” Grayson rolled over and Slade could see healing wounds pinking with new scar tissue. “Not ready yet.” 

“And you are?” Slade asked honestly. 

“Not in the least but Damian will listen to me,” Grayson said as he sat up. Oh good, the Demon Child was getting involved. That answered who Robin was going to be. “Bruce thought it would work with just Nightwing and Robin but he was wrong, so wrong. Someone has to be Batman and it, I.” 

“So you called me,” Slade said, still trying to figure that out. “Me, not Harper or West or any of your other friends or exes. Me.” 

Grayson twisted around and looked at him. “I called you,” he agreed. 

Slade reached out and dragged Grayson onto his lap, cupping his face. “Why?” 

Why? Why call when Slade had destroyed everything? Why, when Grayson was supposed to hate him? Why, why, _why_? 

Grayson shrugged but Slade shook his head. “Words, little bird. We said some pretty nasty things to each other after Chemo destroyed Bludhaven and I'm trying to understand how we go from that to you calling me, out of anyone you could call, for help.” 

Grayson’s lips thinned and for a moment Slade thought he'd slip away like smoke but he didn't. Instead, he sighed and slumped into Slade a little more fully. “I could say something like how I know all my friends have enough shit going on right now and they don't need my crap as well, but I won't.” 

“Because you'd be full of shit?” 

Grayson tweaked his nose absently. “I could say that I was lonely but I haven't had two seconds alone since Bruce died. I had to lock myself in the bathroom at a restaurant to call you and even then Damian and Babs came after me.” 

Slade didn't point out that they were probably worried their new Bat was going to fly the coop, or go insane. 

“Of everything I could say, all the elaborate statements and lies I could spin,” Grayson mumbled against Slade’s neck, “none of it would really mean anything more than the simple truth that I missed you. And yeah, the walls are closing in and I have no way out of my situation. I can't ask you to whisk me away to Tanzania or to take off for some safe house somewhere and have a weekend where the only thing that matters is if we remembered to eat.” 

Slade can't help that he clutches Grayson the tiniest bit tighter at that. Despite everything, he was missed. “I.” He cleared his throat and tried again. “I can spend more time in Gotham, if you need.” 

Grayson tensed for a moment before moving to press a sweet kiss to the corner of his mouth. “If it won't interfere.” 

“I'm not a nice man, Dick,” he warned. He had warned him before, despite everything, and the hero had forgotten somewhere along the way. He needed to say it again, just in case, before they started anything again. He had never been a nice man and he wasn’t going to change into a good one just because of a kid with pretty eyes and a fantastic ass. 

“I know,” Grayson said as he eased himself off Slade’s lap. “Funny thing is, I'm not that nice either.” At Slade’s curious look, he shrugged. “I dangled a mobster off a bridge when I knew he was scared of heights and then I torched the Falcone family compound when they didn't leave when I told them to.” 

Slade’s eyes narrowed. He hadn't heard that so it must have happened earlier that night. “You're going to do just fine as Batman, kid,” he said, unable to keep the approval from his voice. 

Dick shrugged one shoulder and then bit his lip, glancing at Slade from beneath his lashes. “You, uh, gonna leave me the only one at the no pants party?” 

Slade’s smile was slow as sin. 

= 

Slade startled awake as his phone hit his chest, obviously thrown at him by his incredibly grumpy bed partner. 

“Answer it, it won’t stop, I need _sleep_,” Grayson growled darkly. 

Slade leaned over and kissed the other’s shoulder, grinning at the snarl and kick to the shin he received. Phone, right. He found where it had fallen into the sheets and pulled it out, answering it. 

“Wilson,” he said. 

“Is this some sort of joke?” Luthor demanded. 

Ahh, yes. Slade had been wondering when Luthor would call. “No joke. You asked me to find out what had happened to the Batman. My results state the same thing as the news cycles--nothing. He’s back to being a current menace in Gotham.” 

“The uniforms are different,” Luthor said, voice sharp. “This is clearly a new Batman.” 

“Is it?” Slade asked as he yawned. “Batman changes his uniform like Bruce Wayne changes arm candy.” Slade coughed as Grayson punched him in the side. He tried to clear his throat as he continued. “So Batman decided to revamp his wardrobe, big deal. Maybe he decided he needed more armor or something.” 

“So what happened to send in three thousand army reserves and marines?” Luthor asked, his patience clearly thin. “He couldn’t decide to wear the black belt or the yellow one?” 

Slade dragged Grayson against his side, grinning as the other growled and bit at the meat of his shoulder in warning. “He’d gotten a little roughed up by some League mission and had to lie low. You know how it goes, heroes are so delicate these days.” He twisted his hips out of the way of Grayson’s knee--that was going a little below the belt, afterall. “Took him a bit to heal up and the rest of the family and allies had it covered. Status quo is restored.” 

“And yet no one has seen the former Robin, Red Hood, or Nightwing,” Luthor said. 

“If you want me to find out where those three are then that’ll be another contract,” Slade said, grinning. He slid a hand down to Dick’s hip and nuzzled his ear, wondering if he could coax his grumpy lover into another round before attempting sleep again. Luthor swore at him and hung up. Slade tossed his phone to the side and it sounded like it hit the floor, but he had more important things to worry about right now. “Pretty bird,” he murmured as he nuzzled behind a sensitive ear. “You really want to go back to sleep?” 

Grayson growled and pounced. 


End file.
